Ying yang
by Becks
Summary: A little angsty piece on my favourite pairing (TXM) you have been warned pg-13 for themes


Title: Ying Yang

Author: Becky

Paring: There can be only one!!!!!! (TXM)           

What: For Kari, Angel and Meg My slashy inspirations

Notes: *G* you just had to get me started on another fandom didn't you!!! This is a 1st person POV Piece on my favourite YNM Pairing :) enjoy

**!!!SPOILER WARNING!!! --** _For the entire series!_**-- !!!SPOILER WARNING!!!**

I'm glairing straight into his eyes, violet clash with gold, and I know that my expression is fierce, bitter enmity in every line. Hisoko behind me, his eyes, body and soul resonate with undiluted hatred if the man before us, the one who killed him. I wish that for me it could be that simple, that beautifully stark, that the acid hatred that chills those green eyes with bitter burning heat could set a fire in my own heart.

But it can't.

I'm a hypocrite and a traitor.

He's my opposite you see, in each and every way. I treasure life, would protect it and hold it sacred, an odd task for an Angel of Death but mine nonetheless. He sees life as a disposable tool, something that will serve his purpose or be brushed from his path, an endless supply of fodder for his experimentation. His hair is silver to my sable, golden eyes the perfect setting for my own, and that white outfit, utterly pretentious, but right, my cracked and shattered reflection.

And he knows me, that picture that he carries is the least of it, he has, a, sense of me that no one else has ever seen. Except perhaps the demon that once inhabited my heart, who's mark darkens my shoulder even now, he knew. He saw right to heart of me, past the silly slacking agent who needed a sixteen year old boy to yoke him into harness and into the deep grief of the murdering stranger. 

My own personal devil knew the moment he saw me, but then, what is your nemesis but the uncanny echo of yourself? He told me, unafraid, that I was a monster. But there was no condemnation in his tone, deep within it there was an echo of desire, and something even more lost and forsaken…

Even Lucifer can love.

At least that is what I believe, I can't help myself, because deep within me, in the darkness I refused to acknowledge until it blossomed into wings of shadowy feathers upon my back. I love him too.

I can't help it, there are a thousand others I could have chosen to give my heart to, those that truly want it, or would treasure it as a precious gift. I'm not vain, but neither am I stupid, but I don't want them, I can't want them. When I saw him for the very first time, kneeling in the shadow of the cross a tear slowly making its way across the arc of one flawless cheekbone as perfect as any martyr in stained glass I was lost.

Abuse upon abuse have been piled onto my plate, all of a perfect utterly lovely torture, and I'm still not sure, looking into the pitiless golden eyes of my silver falcon whether he meant to hurt me in spite, or to educate me.

There is a child's body at our feet, but there is no grief in his eyes only expectation. He's waiting for me to say something, not do something, apart from stabbing him I've never managed to hurt him, something in me is hardwired against it, when I stabbed him I expected us both to die, to descend to darkness, but we both lived.

No one is surprised that I survived after all wasn't Hisoko courageous to brave the fires of the Turn snake to bring me back from my own suicide? Perhaps, except that in that moment he saved us both. I won't die until he does, and the same is true for him, we are tangled together like Siamese twins, joined at the conscience, taking paired breaths, our hearts beating in an inexorable rhythm. 

In those molten metal eyes I see myself, and I wonder, what he sees when he looks, as he is now, deep into mine with that tiny irrepressible smile on his face.

"Tsuzuki-san It's been some time"

 And I has, I missed him. God that isn't that sick, I knew that he'd reappear in blood and death, that he would use it to summon me to his side like a ritual wrought in innocent viscera, the moment I knew he was still alive I was sure of it, but now that deep voice plays delicate trills up and down my spine and I can say only one word, helpless, caught between love and hatred and ripped apart by both. Because this man is my demon and my lover, my shattered aching reflection…

"Muraki"


End file.
